


the saw as known by the tree

by crownsandbirds



Category: One Piece
Genre: Character Analysis, Gen, Marines being Marines, Minor Portgas D. Ace/Smoker, i have no idea how to tag this, its just fujitora musing over luffy, like maybe one-sided if you squint, smoker being smoker and missing ace in his weird brute way, theres Something there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-10
Updated: 2019-05-10
Packaged: 2020-02-29 17:06:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18782488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crownsandbirds/pseuds/crownsandbirds
Summary: Humans can get used to anything, and Fujitora got used to not being able to see a long time ago. But Strawhat does make him wonder.





	the saw as known by the tree

He can feel the boy's aura all over the place. 

 

Issho -  _ Fujitora _ \- has seen a lot in his life. He did a lot of watching when he was younger; watched as humans came and went, performed their cruel act of pain and injustice, corrupting and destroying and tainting, a bloody play where everyone is actor and audience, there's no script to follow and all the characters cry real tears. It exhausted him. Took something away from him, every cruelty he witnessed stealing away a piece of his heart he now can never hope to recover. 

 

He got tired of being the audience. He can't leave the theater, but he can close his eyes. So he did. 

 

Issho closes his eyes. Lives his life while feeling around with his hands, learned how to recognize someone by their aura instead of their face, memorize voices and not features. Humans can get used to anything, and he got used to feeling the sunlight warm on his rough skin, instead of watching it reflect like tiny crystals over the sea waves. He missed it at first, and then stopped thinking about it after a while. 

 

Strawhat Luffy makes him miss his eyes again. 

 

He's asked people to describe the kid before. Touched his subordinates on the shoulder and handed them the newspaper, asked them,  _ what does he look like? What color are his eyes? And his hair? Is he tall? Strong? Does he smile?  _

 

But people who see don't know what it's like to be unable -  _ unwilling _ \- to. He knows Strawhat has big brown eyes, short brown hair. Knows he's not that tall, looks like Garp in his much younger years, but with rounder cheeks. Knows he has a scar under his eye, curved and rough from a dull knife's edge, most likely - and is aware that no one knows exactly just how he got it. 

 

Knows he favors red, simple clothing without any accessories other than the famed straw hat that once belonged to Red-Haired Shanks and now gives the kid his epithet. Listened with rapt attention to a detailed description of his chest scar - shaped like an X, right over his heart and ribcage, mean and ugly and patched up as neatly as medically possible by the Surgeon of Death's experienced hands. Heard about Marineford, like everyone everywhere did - felt in Garp's grievous aura the insurmountable weight of Fire Fist's death, could almost see the tired slump of his strong shoulders; knows of his bone-deep, badly hidden relief at Luffy's unlikely and miraculous survival from a battlefield so hellish and brutal Fujitora is glad he couldn't see it. 

 

Fujitora knows about all of that, and yet, when he feels the kid's aura for the first time, he realizes he knows nothing. 

 

Strawhat Luffy is a force of nature. Fujitora's heartbeat picks up when he feels the sheer strength of his conqueror's haki, the undeniable, almost overwhelming power of his presence. Fujitora can't  _ see _ him, but his voice and his spirit are both unforgettable enough, carry through the air with the power of a summer storm. 

 

He remembers a conversation he had with Smoker about Garp's troublesome, world-shattering grandkids after the chaotic, cruel mess that was Marineford; 

 

_ The scent of Smoker's ever-present cigars has become as familiar as the ocean breeze at this point, and brings forth a very specific image in Fujitora's brain: strong arms, jitte at the back of his coat, rough voice used to barking out orders by now, an impatient, razor-sharp efficiency that stems from years of relentless training and gets things done. Fujitora has for him the same distant affection he feels towards his own younger self, if only because of how much Smoker reminds him of himself thirty or so years ago, back when he had eyes and a sword able to cut through skin and a desperate urge to do things his way.  _

 

_ But Smoker is smoke, like Fujitora never was. He's malleable. Quieter. He fits in whatever place he's put in. Knows how to listen, talks little.  _

 

_ In a world of marines who yell more often than they speak, Fujitora appreciates the quiet.  _

 

_ Smoker takes a drag of his cigars. It takes him nearly a minute to answer.  _

 

_ "Fire Fist was the most annoying kid I ever met." he exhales his smoke carefully. The smell fills Fujitora's nose. "Fucking stupid, every inch of him. Loyal as a dumb dog. Too damn cocky for his own good, couldn't keep his awful mouth shut. Solved all his problems by setting them on fire. Couldn't take stuff seriously to save his damned life." _

 

_ Long drag, exhale. Sounds more like a sigh than anything else. Smoker is getting old, Fujitora thinks.  _

 

_ "Drove me insane, the devil brat," Smoker grunts out, and that's the end of it.  _

 

_ Fujitora tightens his hold around his cane, loosens it. He can hear the hidden story there. Something. He keeps his mouth shut - listening and shutting up about it was one of the most important things being a marine ever taught him. There's no place for hidden stories in their world.  _

 

_ But he does listen, and he understands.  _

 

_ It's about everything he can do, lately.  _

 

_ "Strawhat..." Smoker takes another drag, a longer one. Fujitora waits. "You'll know when you meet him. He's...something else." _

 

_ Fujitora nods.  _

 

_ They don't speak more. Smoker finishes his cigars and Fujitora finishes his tea. When Smoker leaves, he doesn't ask for permission or salute. Fujitora is grateful for that.  _

 

_ - _

 

Strawhat  _ is _ something else. 

 

Fujitora has never been good with words. He understands why Smoker gave up on trying to make any sort of accurate description. 

 

Suddenly, he wonders. What color are his eyes, really? How do they look when he smiles - and he smiles often and brightly, Fujitora can feel it in the air. 

 

He realizes Strawhat Luffy will change the world, and he's glad he's alive to bear witness to it. He's glad he gets to be a small part of his story, even if it is to play pretend at opposition, give him something to fight against. Even if it's to clean up the mess he leaves behind. Set things neat in any way he can. Ask for forgiveness for the pain the world has inflicted on its future king. 

 

Luffy is the bright light that could've saved Fujitora, if Fujitora was still called Issho, if he was thirty years younger. 

 

As it is, he bets, and hopes, and lets the dawn of the universe go. And wonders what he looks like. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> i have NO idea what this is. its just. its there i guess.


End file.
